


Seeing is believing

by whitesplashes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Happy Ending, Romance, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesplashes/pseuds/whitesplashes
Summary: Summary:When she needed him, he was there. When she no longer needed him, he disappeared. Following the recent death of her boyfriend and grandmother, Clara Oswald is sucked into a world of grief. One day she decides to end her misery by jumping off a building. Her attempt fails when she is stopped by an all too familiar face. Despite a rocky start, she eventually lets them into her heart and slowly begins to heal. However, her happiness is short lived when the universe strikes at her once more, in an attempt to leave her in new a world of pain… or so it thinks.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I had a random thought about.

Prologue

I stared at the photo in my hands; a flood of emotions churning beneath my skin, as my eyes fixated on that all too familiar face. I felt the lump in my throat and forced myself to swallow. Slowly, I soaked in every feature of him. The curly grey mass atop his head… always so soft. The sharp jawline, skin smooth after a fresh shave. His long nose, a bit funny at the tip… the bushy eyebrows. I smiled to myself thinking of the countless times I teased him about it, always referring to them as ‘attack eyebrows.’   
I settled my gaze, next on those piercing blue eyes. It was amazing how much they spoke for him, without him having to utter a word. I remember so well how they’d sparkle whenever they saw me, glared at strangers who posed potential trouble… searched and carried the weight of the world when worried and the flood of relief when everything was fine. His excitement was enjoyable to watch, especially when the corners would crinkle deeply. But for me, the look of desire and love was inescapable in every glance he made.   
I stroked the photograph with my thumb, the horrid crease across his face angering me. Had I not folded the photograph to fit into my wallet for safekeeping, the only image I had of him would not have been ruined. Either way, it was still precious. A piece of a memory and a time that once was and perhaps will never be again…

‘Miss Oswald?’ 

I looked up, my thoughts broken by the sound of the doctor’s voice. 

‘Yes, Dr, Jones?’ I asked.

‘Are you ready to begin today’s session?’

I gave a weak smile and lay in the patient’s chair. It was Amy’s idea for me to start seeing a psychiatrist. When he left, I reverted to a broken mess. After my boyfriend Danny died from the car crash almost a year ago, and then grandma from a stroke a few weeks later; I felt as if the world was against me. Then he came out of nowhere and rekindled the flame of my old self… only to throw me back into a shroud of chaos and turmoil when he disappeared without a trace.  
My good friend Amy Pond stood with me through my battle with grief and depression. She believed talking to someone apart from herself, would help me get over everything; especially him. I know she sought my interest, but honestly… it made my pain worse. The more I spoke of him, the more I wanted to see him and wished he was here…holding me, kissing me, comforting me. 

A tear rolled down my cheek and I quickly brushed it away.

‘How are you today?’ she asked in a friendly manner.

‘Like every other day… empty.’

‘And why is that?’

‘You know why… I have told you before…’

‘Yes, but I want you to tell me more about him. This man you speak so affectionately of…’ she prodded.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Well? Are you going to finally tell me more about him? Is he the person in the photo you are holding?

 

I nodded as she scribbled her notes.

 

‘May I see what he looks like?’

 

I contemplated for a second, but handed it over to her moments later. She gently took it from my grasp and studied it carefully.

 

‘He’s handsome,’ she commented with a small smile.

‘Yes,’ was all I managed to say, as she handed my only physical memory of him back.

‘Let’s start from the beginning,’ she reproached after a couple moments of silence.

 

I sighed once more, but reminded myself that I was here to get help, under Amy’s admonition. Even if seeing the doctor did not make me feel better, perhaps it made her.

 

‘Okay,’ I complied.

‘What exactly would you like to know? I already told you that he was a man that I loved and he said our time was short and we could never see one another again.’

‘Yes, I know that part. What I would like to know, is how you two met? Where was he from?’

 

I clutched the skirting of my dress and gritted my teeth.

 

‘He never told me where he was from.’ 

 

A lie. He did tell me once, a long time ago. If I explained this to her, she would think I was crazy.

 

‘Alright. Then… how did you guys meet?’

 

‘At a party.’

 

Another lie.

The woman in the white doctor’s coat stared at me from under her spectacles. Did she knowing I was being dishonest? She bit her lip and continued with her invasive questions, each attempting to get deeper into my story. I couldn’t do it. I really couldn’t. She’d think I was crazy and prescribe medication for lunatics if I told her. 

How could I even begin to explain my story?

The man in the picture was a man I grew up with. Someone who took care of me and saved me from monsters under the bed, loneliness when my parents passed away and I was sent to live with my grandmother. How could I tell her he was real, but at the same time not? That he existed in a real world and came from one that was perhaps not? That he could have only been seen by myself when I was a little girl and by everyone as an adult, twenty years later? How could I tell her he was my imaginary friend, who came to life… and I fell in love with?


	2. Persuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Clara have a chat about her not wanting to communicate with her doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the story is a little slow, but I promise it will pick up from next chapter.

Chapter 1

I sank into my chair, a hot cup of tea in hand. It was chilly today. The sky a dusky grey, the air crisp with a faint scent of dried autumn leaves.

‘How did your session go?’ asked my red headed friend, a kind smile on her face.

‘I think you should stop paying her to talk to me. We aren’t getting anywhere with this.’

She took a seat across from me, her features growing serious. Here we go… I could smell a lecture coming my way.

‘Clara, we talked about this,’ she began.

 

I rolled my eyes and took a sip from my hot beverage. Amelia was clearly not amused and continued yammering on about the importance of talking to someone about my problems, blah, blah, blah.

 

‘How many times are you going to give me the same lecture?’ I snapped.

‘Until you realize that this is going to pay off in the end,’ she countered.

‘It makes me feel terrible, bringing up old memories I want to stay buried and hidden for the rest of time!’

‘Which is not what you should not be doing! Danny isn’t coming back, Clara! Neither is grandma Oswald! Or your parents!’

I held my breath in suspense for the next person she was about to call.

‘John… isn’t coming back either.’

 

I balled my fist and stared at the table. Hearing his name stung. It was like someone took a knife and rammed it through my chest. My face felt hot and before I realized it, I was crying.

I heard the chair drag across the floor and felt my best friend’s warm arm around my shoulders, her hand stroking my head.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized.

‘Why did things have to happen the way they did? Why did he have to be unreal or unnormal or… I don’t know how to describe it…’

‘Maybe he was an angel sent to bring sunshine in your dark days.’

 

I shook my head, dabbing at my eyes with the sleeve of my knitted sweater.

 

‘He was my imaginary friend, Amy. You know that.’

‘I know. As hard as it was to believe… there was no denying it after a while. I just think you were lucky to have at least gotten a second chance to meet him… even though he left…’

‘I don’t understand anything. I just want him back.’

‘Maybe you will. Pray hard and your wish may be granted. After all, you did wish for a friend after Danny and Grandma Oswald left this world.’

‘Indeed.’

 

After Amy had left, I decided to run a hot bath. I soaked in the tub for about an hour before heading to bed. I lay still, my hand outstretched to the far right side. It felt cold and empty. I turned on my side and stared at it, thinking of John laying there with a book in hand. Sometimes he’d read to me when I couldn’t sleep. Other nights we’d be tangled in each other, our skin slick with sweat.  
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine him being here. The jingle of my phone drifted me back to reality. I glanced at it.

 

One new message.

 

I opened the email.

 

Hello Clara,

I trust you are doing alright. 

I am sorry we were unable to move forward today. I understand that things are becoming more difficult for you to talk about and would like to suggest you write your thoughts down in a journal.   
Recollection of memories on paper, helps just as much as speaking to someone. It is also more private, if you are still uncomfortable with sharing your experiences with me. Try it and if it helps, do give me feedback and how you are progressing.

Regards,

Dr. M. Jones

 

I re-read the message and considered the idea. I rummaged through my nightstand and found an old notebook. Maybe I should take the good doctor’s advice? I contemplated and decided against, tossing the piece of stationary across the bedroom floor.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I woke up from a terrible dream. My heart raced in my chest as I tried to regain my composure. I walked over to the bathroom sink and washed my face, before climbing back to bed. I tossed and turned for hours after that. Eventually I sat up and stared at the wall in the dim light.

At the corner of my eye, the silhouette of the notebook I discarded earlier caught my attention. I fetched it and turned on the lights.

‘What the heck?’ I thought aloud.

I grabbed a pen and wrote on the first page, ‘My story.’


	3. The start of her story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara tells of how she first met her imaginary friend.

Chapter 2

I wasn’t sure how long I had been writing, until I noticed the sunlight peeking through the slivers in my blinds and the crick in my neck began to get the better of me. I climbed out of bed and stretched my arms to the ceiling, my back aching after being in the same hunched position for hours. I had filled half the pages of the book already. I surely had a lot to say.

However, while words describe a feeling, seeing it in motion and witnessing the actual splendour and pain of what you are trying to say; are two completely different scenarios. I grabbed the small keepsake and flipped through the many scribbles. I had begun from when he first came into being. 

It was right after my parent’s funeral and my Grandma had just shown me my new room at her home. It was a small cosy little bungalow, formerly my father’s when he was a child. I remember having trouble coping with the absence of them fussing over me daily and grew withdrawn. When I was forced to switch schools, because it made it easier for my grandma to pick me up after work, I felt so lonely.

Children thought I was strange and the rumour of my parents dying in a freak accident on their vacation mysteriously circulated around school. I was eventually a victim of bullying and my grandmother was called into the principal’s office numerous times as a result. I was distracted from my studies and refused to socialize with the other students.  
One night when she tucked me in, she told me that she had no friends when she grew up either and her mother told her about asking for an imaginary friend. At the time, I thought the idea was a bit dumb and that my grandmother was being silly. However, after being beaten up continuously, I prayed hard that night for someone big and strong to protect me from them. Someone who would chase the monsters away.

Surely enough the next morning, I found a strange boy in my room. He was much older than me. Perhaps in his early twenties I would presume, smiling at me while I lay in bed. I nearly screamed but he put his finger to his lips and shook his head. Any sensible person would know not to listen, but yet I obeyed and found myself strangely intrigued by the young fellow. 

He had a mop of brown curly hair, was tall and lean and bore the bluest of eyes. 

‘Who are you?’ I whispered curiously.

‘Your imaginary friend,’ he replied with his thick Scottish accent and a grin.

I didn’t believe him but decided to humour him. I was only eight and innocent, but not stupid.

After washing up and getting ready for school, he had followed me downstairs and in plain sight of grandma, who did not notice his presence for the entire time he was there. I asked her if she saw only me in the dining room and she said yes. The boy smiled at me and nodded. Maybe he really was imaginary… and invisible.

At school, he followed me around and when the bullies came, he instructed me to not be afraid. I did as was told and when I felt the sharp pain from being punched in the face, he ordered me to get up and fight back. Never back down. I obeyed, and he guided me as to where to attack and defend, delivering the most pain with minimal injury to myself.  
Later that day my grandmother had a fit when she was called to the principal’s office for the umpteenth time and for a reason that was peculiarly unlike me. I was grounded for a week but felt proud at myself and my new found friend who looked after me. 

As the days went by, we grew closer and the more I realized nobody could see him but me. He could eat physical food if I gave it to him and sleep like everyone else. When I asked him about his name, he said he had none. I thought long and hard about what I should call him, until I decided on ‘John’. Why had I decided on that name? Because my mother was pregnant with my baby brother when she died and that was his proposed name.

Considering how John was like family to me now and we were inseparable as time went by, I figured it was most fitting. We did everything together from playing to eating, going on field trips at school etc. Everything was perfect, until the new student showed up in my class. His name was Danny Pink. He was a shy boy and like myself, unpopular with the other kids and a target for the bullies. I decided to befriend him.

We shared all the same classes and had a lot on common. I enjoyed talking to him as much as talking to John, but I felt like I began giving him more of my attention and ignored my imaginary friend. Danny would come over after school and we’d play and chat and sometimes I wouldn’t even bat an eye at John. I never realized how alone and sad he felt, especially when Danny gave me my first kiss on my ninth birthday.

That night after everyone had went home, and my grandma was cleaning up after my birthday party, I saw John walk into the backyard. He looked troubled.

‘Are you okay, John?’ I asked worriedly.

He gave me a smile, that didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I have to leave, now,’ he explained.

I frowned and asked what he meant.

‘I can’t stay any longer. You don’t need me anymore.’

‘That’s not true,’ I countered, some part of me feeling guilty, because I knew exactly what he meant.

‘You have Danny and you look very nice together. Be good and remember to smile and laugh as you do so well, now.’

‘What are you saying?’ I asked, the dread slowly building up.

‘I was brought here because you needed a friend. Now that you don’t I must go. It’s the rules.’

‘No… you can’t go. You’re my friend,’ I pleaded, clutching the sleeve of his blue shirt.

‘I’m sorry, Clara. Be a good girl, okay?’ he instructed twirling a lock of my hair in his long slender fingers.

He planted a kiss to my forehead and caressed my cheek. My eyes widened as I saw the same hand begin to vanish along with the rest of him.

‘No!’ I shouted, trying to grab onto him.

‘Don’t go!’ 

‘Goodbye,’ he whispered sadly, and waved at me before he completely disappeared.

‘Nooo!!!!’ I screamed.

‘John! John!’

Heavy footsteps followed, and my grandmother found me searching the yard frantically for John. My John. 

‘Who’s John?’ she asked, concerned.

‘My imaginary friend,’ I explained.

She gave me a sympathetic smile and hugged me.

‘He’s not real dearie. It’s all right.’

‘He is!’ I demanded, the tears streaming down my face.

‘He was here! His name is John!’

She shushed me and explained it was only my imagination. I didn’t believe her. The days to follow I waited for him and searched for him, hoping he would appear. I even prayed for him to return at night… but he never came. I never saw him again and I moved on. 

The imaginary friend known as John was forgotten. Danny and I graduated together from elementary and high school and became a couple. When I finished university, he asked me to marry him. I was thrilled and we planned on breaking the news to my grandmother the week he got back from his business trip. However, that day never arrived when he was involved in a car crash. 

I remember hearing the news and felt my world spinning. To make matters worse, my grandmother suffered from a stroke two months later and died shortly after from the damage. It felt like the universe was against me. I fell into a hole of darkness and found myself slipping from all forms of reality. 

One day I couldn’t take it any more and climbed to the top of the building Danny worked at. I closed my eyes and outstretched my arms. As I took a step forward, I inhaled sharply. This was it. This was how I was going to end my pain. I was going to take my life, here and now. I sighed and stepped onto the ledge, when suddenly I heard someone shout my name.

I flung open my eyes and froze.

‘Don’t do it!’ he shouted.

I knew that voice, but from where? It was all too familiar. I slowly looked over my shoulder, my body trembling from the fear and anxiety and stared into the face of a rather ageable man with a head of silver curls in a black suit. I did not know him, as I scanned him over… but as I connected with his blue eyes, I felt a jolt of recognition. It couldn’t be…


	4. How they met again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story goes back two years, to the beginning of Clara's siege.

Chapter 3

Two years ago…

‘Stop! Don’t do it!’ the stranger’s voice called

I flung open my eyes, heart pounding in my chest. My body was only a mere centimetre from the plummet I was about to take. The voice sounded very familiar, yet I could not place it. Curiosity had gotten the better of me and I peered over my shoulder to see a tall, older male with silver hair. He was lanky, decked in a black suit and a crisp white shirt.   
I did not know this man. I squinted at the sight of him as he slowly approached me, his hand outstretched as if to bat away anything I may throw his way. The closer he got, the more detail I saw; the wrinkles on his face, the way his hair curled into a wild mess and those blue, blue eyes

I froze in my spot, my breath hitching. I’ve seen many blue eyes before, but his caught me. There was only one person I remember who possessed that unearthly shade, and how much they bore the weight of the world within them. It couldn’t be him. He disappeared, and he wasn’t real. Gran reminded me countlessly he was a figment of my imagination. I convinced myself for years, that he wasn’t. There was no way he could be standing in front of me, as an old man, trying to prevent me from ending my life.

My life… yes, I was about to jump. I quickly glanced at the distance between myself and the solid pavement below. I swallowed hard. Pedestrians were beginning to take notice in the streets below; some shouting and pointing at me. 

‘Clara…’ the man rasped, ‘Don’t do it. It won’t solve anything.’

I snapped my head back at him. Did he just call me by my name? 

‘S-Stand back!’ I warned, turning my body to face him fully. 

He took another step forward, the space between us growing smaller with each passing minute.

‘Don’t come any closer! I’m warning you! Or I’ll jump!’

His eyes widened at my words and he stopped. He straightened his posture and clasped his hands together nervously. 

‘Is it so bad, that you have to end things this way?’ he tried to reason, with balled fists.

I thought of what he said for a moment. Danny and then grandma’s death within two months was too much to bear. The only living family and people who cared for and about me were gone. I couldn’t handle the loneliness or the pain. The pills weren’t helping or the counselling. This was my best option.

‘Yes…’ I croaked, feeling my eyes sting.

‘You have no idea what I’ve been through!’

He gave me a sympathetic look.

‘Do you want to talk about it? I am a good listener,’ he offered.

I shook my head.

‘The counsellors didn’t help. Nor the priest or Danny’s family… nobody can help me.’

The tears began to roll down my cheeks. 

‘Please,’ the stranger pleaded, offering his hand, ‘We can work this out. Just don’t jump.’

I forced a smile and turned towards the skyline. I looked down at the streets below, noticing the police cars parked at the sidewalk and the cluster of onlookers observing the scene I was causing. I closed my eyes and lunged forward.

This was it.

I felt a sharp tug at my waist and then a pain shooting through my head and side. I was immediately yanked into reality and felt the weight of something warm and heavy pressing into my side. I looked up from the ground of the rooftop and saw the man bracing himself atop me, his legs tangled in mine, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, panting heavily.

‘What… what have you done?!’ I screamed, kicking him off me.

He furrowed his bushy brows and dusted himself off, hand clutching the area f his stomach I had just drove my heel into. 

‘Saving your life!’ he yelled back.

I glared at him and walked towards the ledge.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ I heard him croon and felt those strong arms wrap defensively around my waist, once again.

I tugged at his grip, trying to break free. I was hoisted over his shoulder, like a plaything, kicking and screaming until I felt exhausted. He opened the fire exit and toted me down three flights of stairs, before putting me down. He was sweating profusely, his brow glistening.

Before I could hurl words of profanity and insults at him, I heard the loud stomping of footsteps in the distance. We both looked towards the direction of the sound and soon enough, two policemen appeared in the stairwell.

One of the officers radioed in and helped my saviour and myself to our feet. A paramedic followed and we were led out of the building with the armed escort. When we emerged from the building’s main entrance, the looks on people’s faces made my stomach irk. Many shouted at me, asking if I was insane, others offering their unwanted opinions.   
I felt a headache slowly creeping in with the aftershocks of the event. The paramedic seated me in the back of the ambulance and took my vitals, while the gentleman in the black suit was interrogated by the officers. I could only imagine what he was telling them. I clamped my lips together and felt ashamed. What was I truly doing?   
I fidgeted with my fingers and felt a lump in my throat, my head bowed low as I stared blankly at my feet. 

‘Are you alright?’ I heard him ask, voice soft and gentle.

I nodded, embarrassed to look up.

‘I’m glad you’re safe.’

I nodded again and felt the vehicle shift a tad, as he took a seat beside me. Next, I felt something warm drape over my shoulders. I looked up and noticed he had removed his jacket and placed it over my small frame. I hadn’t noticed I was shivering, and it was a thoughtful gesture. He stared at me, eyes contemplative. They bore no judgement, but rather utter sympathy and perhaps a hint of longing?

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ I asked, my eyes locked onto his.

As he opened his mouth to answer, an officer approached us.

‘Clara Oswald?’

I looked his way, immediately.

‘Yes, officer?’

‘I need you to come with us,’ he ordered.

I could really kick myself. Trying to commit suicide in public was a way of disturbing the public peace. Of course, I was going to be called in and charged for such an act.   
I sighed heavily, knowing what was to come and stood up. I looked at the stranger one last time, before being dragged into the awaiting police vehicle. Our gazes remained locked until we drove off and he was nothing but a blur behind us, as we sped down the street.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

‘Suicide?!’ screamed Amy, my good friend and drinking buddy.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?!’ she scolded, as we walked out of the precinct later that night.

I said nothing and was completely exhausted after everything that occurred today. How was I going to face everyone at work tomorrow? It was all over the news, so I was sure that all of Coal Hill High School knew about it, along with other people I interact with daily. I buried my face in my palms and groaned.

‘I don’t know, Amy!’ I whined, my head throbbing.

‘I seriously can’t believe you pulled a stunt like that! You could’ve talked to me if the counselling wasn’t working! Aren’t I your friend?!’ she hissed.

I cringed at the loudness of her voice. She was angry and rightly so. I hadn’t considered how my actions were going to affect anyone, especially her. I was being selfish.

‘I’m sorry…’ I apologized, meekly.

‘You better be!’

We pulled up at her home ten minutes later and I was hauled inside, with her endless lecturing of why I shouldn’t have done what I did. There was no way she was going to let me stay by myself tonight, or perhaps for the rest of the month.

‘Sleep in the guest bedroom. Take a shower. I’ll get you some clothes and make some dinner. Rory is working the night shift all week, so it’ll be the two of us.’

I did as was told and after throwing on a pair of fluffy pyjama pants and a warm sweater, the wonderful smell of cinnamon hit my nose. My stomach began grumbling and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. After the endless questioning from the officers and two mental health doctors, I was exhausted. I followed the smell into the kitchen and found a large bowl of oatmeal, with a generous serving of fruit. 

Amy was seated on the far end of the dining room table, chewing on a slice of bread.

‘Eat. You look thin,’ she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

We ate in silence and went to bed without uttering a word to one another. She really was upset with me. I messed up, big time. I lay atop the soft duvet, holding the jacket he lent me earlier and stared at the ceiling, the events of the day playing through my head.

The image of the old folk lingered; his eyes haunting me. My chest felt heavy and I wracked my brain for any explanation as to why I felt this way. I didn’t know him, yet I almost felt like I did. How did he know my name? Were we acquaintances or perhaps Danny’s or Gran’s?

Later that night I fell into a deep sleep and my thoughts were plagued with that handsomely aged face. Where was he from? Where? Where? Where? I heard him calling my name and I searched frantically for him. I was suddenly in a house. It looked a lot like Gran’s when I was a child and there were balloons and children playing… and a cake. It looked like a birthday party. I saw Danny as a little boy running around and laughing.

This was a memory… It was my ninth birthday, except I wasn’t nine, but my now older self. I saw a tall shadow pacing in the garden, through the kitchen window. I approached it, only to find the garden now empty. MY heart thumped in my chest. John was an imaginary friend. He was never real, I reminded myself, half expecting him to pop up.  
I looked around the small area in the artificial lights and found no one. I shrugged and turned to head back inside, when I heard him say my name again. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I slowly spun around. At first, he was like an apparition… transparent through most parts but I could see a well-defined outline of his shoulders, arms and legs. He became more detailed as his body took complete form. 

The person before me made my mouth run dry. I took a step back, my jaw slack with shock.

‘Clara,’ he said, extending a hand.

I was glued to my spot, my body refusing to budge. 

‘Clara… my Clara.’

I shuddered, staring into the face of the stranger who saved me earlier today.

‘It’s me.’

‘W-Who?’ I questioned, half knowing the answer to come.

He walked up to me and twirled a lock of my hair in his long finger and stared me in the eye.

‘It’s me… John.’

I woke up, Amy shaking me violently. My skin was slick with sweat, hair stuck to my face.

‘Wake up, Clara! You’re having a nightmare!’ she shouted.

I panted and held my head, trying to reason what I just dreamt. 

‘That man…’ I rasped.

‘What man?’ asked my friend, worriedly.

‘The man who saved me today…’ I continued, ‘… I think he’s John…’

Amy frowned at me.

‘Who’s John?’

I looked at her, pupils blown, body shaking.

‘My imaginary friend. He’s back… and he’s real!’


	5. The world is turning upside down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara tries to convince Amy the stranger is her imaginary friend, while the aftermaths of her attempted suicide backlashes.

Chapter 5

‘I’m not going to see a psychiatrist!’ I screamed at my friend.

She folded her arms tightly and stared at me with angry eyes.

‘Clara, you need help. Suicide and then thinking that your imaginary friend is real, because of a dream is worrisome enough!’ she argued.

‘It has to be him! There’s only one person I know with those eyes!’

‘There are millions of people with blue eyes. Some different hues of blue and his just happens to be striking.’

I sighed and tugged at my hair. I was losing my mind. I could feel it and arguing with Amy was not helping me get better. Instead of begrudging all her offers of aid, perhaps I really should listen and take her advice.

I looked at the stranger’s jacket hung over the back of one of her kitchen chairs. It was too coincidental to ignore. Where did he appear from, when I was about to jump? Why did I see him in my dream, calling my name? 

I had never met or seen him in my life. I wracked my tired brain for an explanation. Logically, he could be a stalker and I was his next target, but when he saw me on the ledge, decided to save me, because of the attention my proposed death could have created. That’s one theory.

Maybe he was an undercover agent, doing dirty work for the government. I admit to not paying my bills on time and shop lifting on a couple of occasions, when I was short of change… that’s theory number two.

Then there was my third and farfetched third assumption, which my red headed friend completely disagrees with. Maybe he was John and somehow after all these years came back. He knew my name and I dreamt him. That confused me the most. Maybe it was my subconsciousness playing a sick trick on me, making me believe in something completely stupid and hopeless.

I sipped the coffee I held in my hands and grimaced. It was cold. How long had I been pondering? Amy was no longer in the room and the sky was now a sooty grey, compared to the brilliant sunshine that previously streamed in through the window. I called out loudly to my friend, her muffled answer emanating from the living room. 

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized, the moment my eyes landed on her as I entered the large living space.

She nodded and ushered for me to have a seat.

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need better help,’ I explained.

Her green eyes studied me carefully as I scraped for words to tell her how much I wanted to get better and be normal again. She put her hand up, stopping me.

‘I understand,’ she said.

I lifted my brows at her.

‘You do?’

She smiled.

‘Take some time and think about my offer to see a psychiatrist,’ she explained.

I nodded and smiled back.

‘Can I stay here for a bit? I don’t really like being alone at Gran’s lately.’

‘Of course. Stay as long as you want. If Rory’s snoring disturbs you at night, I’ll kick him out the bedroom and let him sleep on the couch,’ she teased.

We both chuckled at her little joke and I felt a small relief that I was not going to be by myself for the next few days.

 

Going to work was a disaster. Students passing in the halls looked at me and whispered amongst themselves, while my co-workers stared at me judgementally. I saw a photograph of myself on the ledge in a newspaper clipping, taped to the wall of my classroom as I passed by. Immediately I tore it off and disposed of it.

‘Miss Oswald?’ called the headmaster, the minute I walked into the staff room.

He pointed to his office and I followed him. He closed the door behind us, the I dread of what he was going to tell me next slowly building.

‘Miss Oswald, I think you should take some time off. Take the rest of the school year off as a matter of fact.’

‘I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Saxon. I don’t need a vacation,’ I offered.

‘After that stunt all of London saw on the news last night, we all think you should take a break from work.’

Before I could open my mouth, he continued explaining how my grief was affecting my logical thinking and offered to recommend a counsellor, should I want to talk to someone. The mention of that word ticked me off and I was suddenly blinded by anger.

‘With all due respect Mr. Saxon, I do not wish to see a counsellor,’ I growled, through gritted teeth.

Why was everyone taking pity on me? Was I so weak and broken that people wanted so desperately to help me?

‘I really think you should get help. You don’t look well and after the passing of your late grandmother you’ve lost all focus on your job. The students have seen it, and the staff. It was already visible after Mr Pink di-‘

I didn’t let him finish his sentence. I shot out of my seat, the chair toppling behind me, startling him.

‘Don’t you dare say his name. You were the one that fired him when you found out we were having an affair! Thanks to you, he had to find another job! One that kept him away from me a lot of times, because he had to travel on so many business trips! One simple situation you could’ve dealt with more civilized!’ I screamed.

He looked at me dumbfounded. I took a deep breath and stormed out his office. Fellow teachers peeked out from the staff room, as I stomped out of the school compound, fists balled tightly. 

I walked until my feet felt tired, eventually stopping at the park. I collapsed onto one of the benches, under a shady oak tree. I buried my face in my hands and began to cry. I was a fool. A lonely fool.

‘Are you alright?’ asked someone.

I looked up and felt my heart sink into my shoes. The person looked at me worriedly, their grey hair whipping around their face wildly with the wind. I stared at him blankly as he dug into his pocket, producing a white handkerchief and handed it to me.

‘Who are you?’ I questioned, voice trembling.

‘You know who I am,’ was his reply.

I gritted my teeth and shook my head. 

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’

I got up, dwarfed by his height and stared at him helplessly. 

‘I don’t know who you are. You saved my life, and I don’t know if to thank or hate you for it,’ I spat.

His face tensed. 

‘Taking one’s life is not the answer, Clara.’

I felt a barrel of cold shiver run down my spine, when he said my name. It was so familiar, but I was going to be a rational, logically thinking adult. There was no way for someone who never existed, to now exist. I mentally repeated those words to myself.

‘How do you know my name? Are you a stalker? A government official? A spy?’

He frowned, ‘No.’

‘Then how?’

I watched him blink a couple of times, the wheels in his head possibly simulating a careful answer.

‘When your heart is right, you’ll know, and we’ll cross paths again.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He did not reply, but simply smiled at me sadly. It was my turn to frown and I felt myself frozen to the spot, when he reached forward and twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers. Our eyes met and I stared long and hard into them. 

‘Goodbye,’ he whispered and slowly walked away.

I gaped at him, as he faded into the bustling crowd down the street, my hand clutching my chest. Deep in my heart, I wanted to accept what I suspected, because I truly believed he was John. There was one thing I needed to do, and that was to find out who this strange man truly was, before I pled insanity.


	6. Re-encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara chases after the stranger and finds her answer.

Chapter 5

I followed the lanky man amidst the boisterous crowd, my eyes locked on his grey head. 

‘Hey!’ I shouted after him, ‘Wait!’

He kept his gaze forward, minding his own business. I ran as fast as my legs could take me, trying hard to close the distance between us. I tripped over the uneven surface of the pavement and fell flat onto my face. I groaned and got up as swiftly as I could. 

I looked around frantically to spot my target, but he was nowhere to be found. I huffed angrily at myself and dusted my skirt. I needed to know who he was, to prove my theory wrong. His indirect answers puzzled me from earlier. What did he mean by ‘when my heart was in the right place, we’ll cross paths again’?  
I bit my lip and aimlessly headed down the street, deep in thought. I was so caught up in my pondering, I had not noticed that I began crossing the street on a red light. I heard the loud blaring of a car horn, followed by the screeching of tires. I snapped my head to the direction of the sound and watched the car bridge the space between us.  
I closed my eyes and cringed, bracing for the impact that never came. I felt myself enveloped in warmth, something wet dripping onto my face. I looked up and saw him cradling me to his chest, breath heavy and a deep gash on his face. Shaken, I rolled us over, splaying him onto his back. He weakly peered at me, his hand clutching his side; ironically the one I dug my heel into, yesterday.

‘Oh my, God!’ I shouted, removing my jacket and dabbing at his gash.

I pressed the fabric into his wound and dialled the ambulance. Where had he appeared from all of a sudden? Was he watching me the entire time? This was the second occasion he saved my life… both times suffering some sort of injury on my behalf. 

I sat at the back of the ambulance with him, while they drove us to the nearest hospital. He was out cold, the bleeding from his head under control, but the rest of him? We had to wait til a doctor examined him to find out whether he was alright or not. I paced the waiting area for over two hours, waiting for the doctor to emerge. When he finally did, he informed that he was fine and asked if I were his family.

Selfishly, I lied. I had no idea if he had any, but for my own reasons I did what I did. I said I was his wife and explained in my own version, what happened; that I was crossing the street without looking and he grabbed me out of harm’s way. That was enough to keep the doctor from asking any invasive questions and he let me into the room, to see him.  
It was comical how his long body, was cramped into a small bed, his feet hanging off the mattress. I shifted the blanket to cover them and took a seat at his side. He was fast asleep, head bandaged tightly. His lip was busted, and he bore scratches on his arms and neck. I studied his face, carefully. He bore no resemblance to the John I knew, yet somewhere I felt a connection to him. I took his large hand in mine and stroked it with my thumb.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

‘This is all my fault.’

I woke up with the sensation of a someone or something dabbing at my cheeks. I slowly cracked my eyes open and saw my rescuer staring at me worriedly. I opened my eyes wide and sat up, realizing I settled myself beside him and fell asleep. I quickly climbed off the bed and sat in the chair opposite the bed.

‘You’re crying,’ were his first words.

I frowned and lightly ran the back of my palm over my cheek. It was wet. I rummaged through my purse and pulled out my pocket mirror, staring at my reflection. He was right. I hadn’t recalled having a dream to upset myself to this level, I thought. My eyes darted to him. I observed the wet spots on the sheet near his neck, where I lay and then his hand, glistening in the light. He was telling the truth.

I gave a half smile, trying to shrug off my rollercoaster of emotions and got to the more important meat of the matter.

‘How are you feeling?’ I squeaked.

‘A bit knocked up, but I’m fine,’ he replied gently, that worried look still on his face.

I nodded, acknowledging his words. An awkward silence followed a few minutes after, and I busied myself rummaging through my purse, to ignore the way he was looking at me. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

‘What?’ I half-snapped and then quickly apologized for my tone.

He said nothing and studied my face. I had so many questions to ask him, yet my mind was completely blank. 

‘Thank you for saving me,’ I said, finally.

If I couldn’t think of anything else, at least thanking him was a start. He smiled softly and rubbed at the back of his head. The nurse entered the room, startling me, a large bowl of steaming soup in her hands. I watched as she took his vitals and asked him a couple questions. He must have been very hungry, judging from the way he grabbed the bowl of hot liquid. His hands trembled, the majority of what he held in his silver spoon, spilling onto his hospital gown. He tried again and again, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Let me,’ I said, taking the utensil from his hand. 

I sat onto the side of the bed, scooting a little closer to him. I scooped some of his dinner into the spoon and blew lightly. He stared at me, eyes almost full of gratitude before slowly slurping it up. When he had finished his meal, I took a face wipe I kept in my bag and cleaned his mouth and chin of any food residue and failed at trying to get it off his gown. 

I almost felt like I was feeding a child, although some part of me thoroughly enjoyed it, I had to admit.

‘Do you have any family you would like me to call?’ I offered.

‘I have nobody.’

I rocked back into my seat and felt sympathy for him.

‘No wife? Kids? Maybe a sibling or good friend?’

He shook his head.

‘I’m sorry.’

His expression was unreadable and once again, he took a lock of my hair and twirled it in his fingers. I felt my eyes sting and fresh tears streamed down my face. He attempted to wipe them away, but I evaded his touch and quickly gathered my things, as I felt my heart begin to hammer in my chest.

‘Well, thank you again for saving me and I hope the doctor fixes you up and lets you go soon,’ I spluttered, awkwardly.

I didn’t give him a chance to reply, as I ran through the door and didn’t stop till I had exited the building.   
That night, I lay in bed, my mind filled with thoughts of him. I barely knew him, yet I felt the strangest urge to keep him close. I even felt worried that he was at the hospital by himself and had nobody to visit him. Maybe I just felt bad for the guy given his situation and that he helped me, although he was a strange fellow.  
As I drifted into sleep, I had the weirdest of dreams. I was at my birthday party again, but this time there was nobody in the house. I was my current self and there he was, towering over me. My John from years ago.

‘John…’I whispered, his face slowly inching closer to mine.

He smiled, a big toothy smile and twirled my hair.

‘Yes. It’s me.’

‘Why did you go?’ I croaked, eyes brimming with tears.

‘You didn’t need me anymore.’

‘That’s not true! I always needed you and still do!’

He shook his head.

‘You had Danny, but now there is no-one. Now they sent me back to you…’

I frowned at his answer, ignoring the part with Danny and got straight to the point.

‘They sent you back?’

He nodded and leant forward, pressing his lips gently against mine. When he broke the kiss, I stared back at his face in utter surprise. It was no longer my John, but the old bloke that saved me. 

‘Clara,’ he said slowly, creating a bit of distance between us… perhaps to prevent himself from getting a good beating.

‘The answer to your question is staring you in your face.’

I shook my head, ‘How is that possible? How?!’

He repeated his words again and again, until I started screaming and I heard Amy calling to me, her hands shaking me into waking consciousness.


	7. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara faces her doubts and makes her decision

Chapter 7

My dreams of late could not have been mere coincidence. Meeting that man could not have been out of luck. Amy must be tired of my nightmares by now. She had woken me once again from screaming and thrashing in my sleep. I told her it was time I returned to grandma’s house and grant her some peace. Of course, she said it was a bad idea, but the tired look on her face recently, was entirely my fault.

I took a seat in my old room and took in the scene. Dust had begun to collect onto the various items during my short absence. I shrugged off my jacket and got to work, cleansing the old house of the dust and dander that accumulated. It kept my mind occupied for a while and I worked myself into exhaustion. I made a hot cup of tea and sat on the back porch, noting to prune the hedges some time later in the week.

As I relaxed, my mind wandered to the silver haired fellow. Was he still at the hospital? It had been three days since the accident and the last time I had also seen him. Where was he staying? Was anyone going to take care of him, considering he was injured? Endless questions weighed on me and I buried my face in my palms. I knew who he was, crazy as it seemed. Dreams were your mind’s way of working things out… and I truly believed he was John, although I was still skeptical.

My growling stomach broke my thoughts and I couldn’t remember when last, I had eaten. Of course, with all the cleaning I took no time to re-fill the refrigerator or cupboards with any sort of edible groceries. I grumbled to myself as I marched down the driveway and up the street, towards the nearest shop. 

The sunlight felt wonderful, the air with a mild chill. I held on tightly to my large brown paper bag of goodies, perhaps a tad too heavy for someone my size. I should have asked for two smaller bags instead of the large one I carried, to make my life easier. My arms were growing tired and while I tried to shift the weight evenly, the bag tore open. I swore as I watched my stash of apples roll down the gently declining road.

I huffed, grabbing my few cans of tuna, bottle of water and loaf of bread. Maybe I should forget about the apples, considering they were probably bruised after their roll and tumble on the dirty asphalt. I rolled my eyes at the thought of wasting such good fruit and headed home. I packed away my few things in their respective keepsakes in the kitchen and jumped when I heard the doorbell rang.

I figured it was Amy, checking in on me. However, the surprise at the door was one I was least expecting. With a goofy grin, he stood at my front door, holding a small heap of apples sacked in his holey white t shirt. My mind went blank for a split second. My eyes darted between him and the apples.

‘I saw when your bag busted earlier and picked them up for you,’ he offered.

‘Thank… you?’

He smiled and nodded toward a bowl behind me. I gave an embarrassed chuckle and retrieved it, allowing him to toss the fruit into the container. We awkwardly stared at one another til he broke the silence.

‘I wasn’t following you. I just happened to be passing through… Well… see ya,’ he said, turning his back to me.

I watched him make his way down the driveway and I felt a pang in my chest. I couldn’t let him leave.

‘Hey!’ I shouted after him.

He continued walking. I shouted after him again, louder and clearer. I did it one more time, but he kept going. I am sure he heard me, yet why wasn’t he stopping? I groaned and ran after him. His long strides were no match for my short legs and I was unable to close the space between us. Alas, in my final attempt, I whistled. Something I hadn’t done in a long time… and I called him by the only name I could think of.

‘John!’

He stopped. I stood bent over, panting heavily; as he turned around slowly and walked toward me. He came to a halt a few feet away, a subtle smile on his face. Even his eyes seemed to sparkle.

‘Do you believe?’ he asked.

‘In what?’ I questioned, finally gaining control of my breath.

‘That I am, who you assume I am.’

‘I’m not entirely sure,’ I replied, honestly, ‘but you’ve been in my head lately, ever since we met… it’s driving me crazy.’

‘Why is it hard to believe? Is it because you fear what others may think?’

I nodded. It was true and if they didn’t believe me, they’d say I was a loon. He took a step closer, eyes studying me carefully.

‘Prove you’re him,’ I whispered.

‘Twirling my hair isn’t an option and the dreams don’t count.’

He tucked his hands in his pockets and pondered for a few moments.

‘I’ll make it easy’, I offered.

‘No,’ he interjected, holding his large hand up.

‘I’ll tell you something about yourself that no-one else knows.’

I cocked a brow and awaited his answer.

‘You feared the dark.’

I scoffed, ‘Everyone when they’re little fear the dark.’

‘Yes… but you feared it because you said it killed your mum and dad.’

I felt my blood run cold. Nobody knew that, not even Danny. 

‘You hated it so much, you couldn’t sleep without the light on at night. Eventually I told you to break out of it and showed you there was nothing to fear and that the night was a wonderful thing.’

I swallowed hard, remembering everything he said very well, just like the first time.

‘I told you night brought out the stars and all things that glowed, especially th- ’

‘Fireflies,’ we both said in unison.

‘How is this possible?’ I sobbed, my entire body shaking.

‘You’re not real. You left.’

‘We have unfinished business,’ he said carefully.

I felt his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at his worried face, quickly wiping away my tears.

‘Don’t think I trust you despite everything you just said,’ I barked, trying to sound tough.

‘I understand.’

‘Do you have a place to stay?’ I asked next, my eyes glued to the still bandaged gap on his head.

‘No.’

‘I could use a hand in straightening out the house. The trees and hedges need pruning, I hate doing grocery shopping and I’m told its best for me to not be alone in this stage of grief.’

‘So, what are you trying to say?’

‘I want you to stay here… for a little while. Just till the end of spring. No funny business. I’ll pay you for your work.’

I held my hand out to him,’ Deal?’

He smiled and took my palm in his, giving it a firm shake.

‘Deal.’

I ushered him to the front door and the moment he entered, I could have sworn I felt the house smile. It almost felt alive… as if something missing, was finally put back into place. Or was I imagining things?


	8. Those same clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara takes John in, but how do they cope on his first day there?

Chapter 8

‘I have to apologize,’ said John, setting down his teacup.

‘For what?’ I asked, chomping on my tuna sandwich.

I had shown him around the house and it amazed me how much he remembered the old days; him and I, fooling around in the attic, digging through grandma’s chests of old clothes, hiding her yarn balls between the sofa cushions, overwatering the plants. He even pointed out the old crack in my bedroom wall we had covered with a poster of David Bowie, because we couldn’t afford to fix it.

‘I didn’t pass here out of mere coincidence,’ he confessed.

I wasn’t surprised and watching his body language; how he wrapped his arms around his midsection, suggested he was probably bracing himself from another physical attack, from yours truly. 

‘I know. Were you looking for me?’

He frowned, ‘You did?’

‘You showing up and saving me started as a coincidence but the fact that we keeping meeting each other unexpectedly, I’m not surprised to find you near my home.’

‘I could be a stalker for all you know. How come you haven’t called the police?’ he questioned.

‘Come to think of it, you’re right. I’ll go do that right now,’ I said, pulling out my mobile phone.

His eyes opened in horror and he quickly stood up.

‘A-are you really calling them? After y-you figured who I am?’ he stammered.

I smirked and set the device down.

‘I’m not. I was curious how you’d react, though. Calm down.’

He blew air through his teeth and took his seat. The tension in his body was almost amusing to me.

‘I want… to trust that you are, who I assume you are. I know we spoke about this before. I’m just having a terrible time coming to terms that this is actually happening.’  
He nodded, ‘I understand.’

Later that day, I got him to help me clean the rest of the house, especially the pantry. It reeked of rotting vegetables and no amount of disinfectant could deodorize that air in that cramped room. I banished John to my old room for the night, while I took up residence in my late grandmother’s room. 

It was a little larger than my own, but cozy and comfortable. It still smelt like her. Ever since she died, I did not have the heart to set foot in here. Now I was lying in her bed, the sheets still unmade, from the last time she lay in it. I gazed at her dresser, her jewels and perfume scattered around, her dirty laundry still nestled in the large basket in a corner.  
My eyes settled on a small photograph of her as a young woman, with my grandfather. I smiled, thinking of how wonderful it must have been for her to have that special someone to live with, for most of her years. I felt that cold blanket of sadness envelope me, and in a flash, I was crying. I curled into a little ball and lay on her soft duvet, thinking of how wrong things had gone. How could things have happened the way it did? Why did I have to suffer?

‘Clara?’ called John’s serene voice, followed by a knock on the door.

‘Go away,’ I croaked.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, worriedly.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t sound fine. May I come in?’

‘No! Go away!’ I snapped.

He said nothing. I listened to the floorboards creak as he walked away, leaving me in my despair. 

A few minutes later, I heard another knock on the door.

‘What did I say, before?!’ I hissed, my temper beginning to surge into a new level of catastrophe.

‘I made you some chamomile tea. It’ll help with the congestion you get from crying and help you to relax and sleep. Have a good night, Clara. Everything will be alright.’  
I suddenly felt guilty, for the way I reacted. Even worse, grandma used to give me chamomile tea whenever I cried and John always ensured I drank it. Now here he was, offering me tea… and hoping I’d drink it. I slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door a crack. I saw the piping hot cup on the floor, accompanied by a pink peony.   
I glanced down the hallway. No sign of him.

I took the items into the room and slowly sipped on the hot liquid. The flower, I put on the nightstand and stared at it. It as freshly cut from the garden downstairs. He knew it was my favourite flower, too. I ensured to drink all the tea and told my self that perhaps I should be a bit kinder to my guest. 

\-----------------

Hot breakfast awaited me the next morning, when I entered the kitchen. 

‘Good morning,’ he greeted, with a kind smile.

I didn’t answer and silently took my seat at the table. He poured me a hot cuppa and placed a slice of toast with a generous amount of butter before me. 

‘Eat. You look like hell,’ he commented.

I did. I barely slept a wink. I had nightmares of Danny’s death and grandma’s funeral and I woke up each time, crying and thrashing in my sleep. At one point, John banged on my door, asking if I was alright and needed help. I never replied, sending him the cold shoulder despite telling myself to be nicer to him.  
He sat in the chair across from me, dining on some toast, himself. I looked at him carefully. His hair was a wild mess, under his eyes were dark, perhaps from the many disturbances I provided. I felt terrible, thinking of what Amy must have been through, because of me. I raked my eyes over his clothes. He still more that holey white t shirt, and a faded pair of black trousers. What the heck happened to that nice suit he wore, the first time we met?

‘What happened to your clothes?’ I asked, pointing to his shirt.

‘I traded it for food.’

I cocked an eyebrow.

‘You did, what?!’ That was a nice suit!’

‘I know, but I was hungry and had no money. Hospital food is terrible. When I got out, a man was selling some fish and chips and I had nothing to offer, so he told me, my suit would fetch a nice price.’

‘You traded your suit for fish and chips? I’m surprised you’re not naked right now. How’d you get the t shirt and pants, then?’

‘It was the vendor’s clothes. We switched.’

I looked at his clothing distastefully and guzzled down my tea. I stood up suddenly, startling the man.

‘We’re going shopping,’ I ordered, snapping my fingers at him.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I am not going to have you walking around and keeping me company wearing, those raggedy clothes. Come on,’ I ushered him.

‘I’m perfectly fi-‘

‘Now!’ I ordered him, making him climb out of his chair.

‘Yes, boss,’ he said, heading towards the door.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his response. This was my first attempt at repaying my debt to him, I told myself.

‘I’m sorry.’

He looked at me, his bushy eyebrows, furrowed.

‘For what?’

‘Last night.’

He smiled and opened the door.

‘It’s alright. I understand you’re in pain… just don’t shut me out, when I’m here to help,’ he said, almost pleadingly.

I looked him in the eye and saw a flash of hurt. Did he care about me…? Maybe I was being too hard on him? I didn’t know, and I shouldn’t let my guard down. For now, at least showing my appreciation for being alive, thanks to him could be a stepping stone to me getting better.


	9. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara pushes John away and falls into a very depressive state.

Chapter 9

‘No, no and no. I am not getting you those hideous plaid trousers,’ I objected, as John held up the piece of clothing for me to see. 

He gave an attempted sad, puppy-dog sort of look and I admit for a second, it was so adorable, I almost gave in. I shook my head and stood my ground. He demanded that I not spend a ton of money on clothing for him and had opted for shopping at a charity store. 

I let him do the picking and his taste was… let’s just say he was like any typical guy. Four black t shirts, a few white ones, with skull prints. I rolled my eyes and snuck a few back into the racks and exchanged them for brighter, happier colours. Then of course, he chose these pants that I refused to buy.  
As we sifted through the aisles, my mind ran to Danny. I remember the first-time shopping with him and how we disagreed on every shirt he picked out. He claimed them to be different, but to me, despite different brands they were all the same design. 

‘Clara?’ called John, drifting me from my thoughts.

‘Hmm?’ I answered turning towards him.

‘What do you think?’ he asked, wearing a velvet burgundy jacket. 

It was very sleek and it fit him well. Honestly, he looked quite dashing in it, but I quickly dismissed the thought.

‘Looks good. Put it in the cart.’

He smiled at me and did as was told. To compliment it, I added a white shirt and found a black waistcoat, along with black trousers to match. Considering he traded his last suit, it wouldn’t hurt to give him a new one.

A couple with a toddler passed next to me and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have a child. Maybe if Danny were still alive, and after we’d gotten married, he’d like to have a mini him. I watched asmthe little girl held her arms up and her father nestled her safe into his large arms.  
I suddenly felt cold and my chest hurt. My face felt hot and I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know I was crying in public once more. This was becoming quite a habit now, wasn’t it? I quickly wiped away the tears and forced myself to smile. 

‘What’s wrong?’ asked John, the moment I approached him.

‘Nothing,’ I lied, and continued with our shopping in silence.

Later that day, he helped me prune those bushy hedges and made dinner. He was quite a good cook and I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the savoury flavours hit my taste buds. 

‘I’ve some news for you,’ he announced, when I was done eating.

I cocked an eyebrow and awaited with abated breath.

‘I’ve gotten a job!’ he exclaimed, happily.

I was in disbelief and I assume it showed, given the way he furrowed his ridiculous eyebrows at me.

‘I’m serious,’ he defended, aggressively taking a sip of his tea.

‘Where? When? How??’ I prodded.

‘Earlier when we were at the store, a random shopper saw me in the red jacket and asked if I wanted to model for him.’

‘And… you’re okay with this…?’

‘I said sure. He said he’d pay me a few pounds per photo.’

‘I don’t know… he could be a scammer,’ I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable having him away from me so soon.

‘If I take this, I can help you with the bills and food, and buy you nice things.’

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

‘Buy me nice things? Only boyfriends do that, John.’

‘I’m aware, I’m not your… boyfriend.’

‘I never said you were,’ I said, feeling a bit strange over the topic.

I frowned, the entire turn of conversation creating a strange atmosphere between us. 

‘Whatever you choose to do, John… is entirely up to you. I’m still paying you to help me. If you’re going to get a job, then it’s better we split ways.’

‘Why is that?’ he questioned, unhappily.

‘Because then you can take care of yourself and won’t need to be here. You can rent your own apartment and what not!’ I hissed.

Why was I suddenly angry? What the hell was going on with me? I barely knew this man, despite what he claimed. He had been with me only a few days and why was I feeling like I was losing something important?

‘Are you angry?’

I didn’t answer. I quickly got up, chucked the dishes in the sink and stomped to my room.

‘It’s your decision, not mine! Live your life,’ I shouted, before disappearing down the hall.  
\------------------

The next day, any traces of John were gone. His clothes were missing, his bed made and everything else in their usual place. I grew worried. Did he really leave? I flung open the closet, looked under the bed. Nothing. 

I ran downstairs, calling his name. No answer. In the kitchen was a small plate of breakfast for one, laid on the table with a note.

“I decided to take the job and your advice.”

He really left. I should feel happy he was gone and did not need to care for another person, but I felt dread in the pit of my stomach. I should have been kinder. I stared at the meal, at a total loss and felt terrible. I visited the charity store later in the day, asking around if anyone had seen him, but came up empty handed. I tried the hospital and even the rooftop where we first met. No sign of him. He was gone for good.

The next two weeks to follow, were horrible. Amy was busy, so I had no-one to talk to. The house was as silent as the grave and I stopped eating. I felt my depression slowly eating away at fragments of my mind and thought that if I didn’t get help soon, I was going to kill myself.

I stared at the pictures on my phone of Danny and I; all our favourite past-times. Times we were never going to have again. I tossed the phone across the room with full force, the screen shattering as it contacted the brick wall. 

I sank onto the couch, breathing heavily. I clutched my hair and buried my head into my lap, rocking to and fro. My body began to shake violently and my heart began to race. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. After months, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was trying to get better. Having a stranger around, I thought would help, but he abandoned me. It was my fault. 

Everything I wanted was taken from me. All my happiness wiped away clean. I was alone. Nobody was left to love me. I shut my eyes and screamed. I took items within reach and flung them across the room, from throw pillows to potted plants and books. I thrashed the entire living room and made my way into the kitchen.   
I drew a knife from the cutlery drawer and rest the cool blade to my throat.

‘I’m coming Danny and grandma,’ I sobbed.

I heard the doorbell ring, as I began to press into my skin. I froze, when I heard the door open. I slowly turned around to see who the intruder was, and I dropped my knife the second I saw the person.

I took a step backward, body feeling numb and weak. They countered my movement, closing the gap between us. My head began spinning, my senses on overdrive. I felt confused and began sobbing, until everything went black. The last thing I heard was his voice calling my name. He was back. My John came back.


	10. Stop pushing me away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns and Clara clears the air on everything regarding what happened.

Chapter 10

I slowly opened my eyes, a burning sensation radiating from my neck. It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts; my emotional breakdown, the near suicide attempt and John. John had come back. I sat up slowly, noting he had tucked me into my bed and elevated my legs. He even put a bandage around my wounded neck.  
I climbed out from under the thin sheet and tip-toed down the hall towards the kitchen. Like a child, I snuck into the main living area. The mess I had made was gone. The books were put back in place, the broken pots and furniture were all contained in large garbage bags to the corner of the room. I noticed his velvet jacket slung over the couch and walked toward it.

I placed my hand on the soft, fabric. It was warm. I heard the clanging of plates and knew immediately where he was. 

‘Are you going to snoop around, or have something eat?’ he called, making me jump.

He knew I was up and about…? Then again, he knew me better than any living person right now, apart from Amy.   
I stormed into the kitchen, my eyes brimming with tears when I saw him. He looked at me blandly, no hint of emotion on his face. He nodded to the table and took a seat. I followed suit and eyed him carefully as he poured the tea and handed me a plate of scrambled eggs. We ate in silence, his eyes never meeting mine.

Was he upset?

After our meal, he washed up without uttering a word. I began feeling uncomfortable and left the area. I visited his room and found all his belongings where they used to be. I don’t know why, but I felt a flood of relief. Was he back to stay? 

‘What are you doing?’ he questioned, making me jump for the second time.

‘I…’

He looked furious and I quickly averted his gaze. His long arm blocked the doorway, the moment I tried to leave. His tall frame towered over me, and I took a step back, as he approached me with an uncharacteristic cold stare. I swallowed hard, backing myself against the closet. He raised his hand and I quickly crouched down onto the floor, bracing myself for whatever he was about to do. 

I felt him place his hand beneath my chin and made me meet his gaze. That coldness and anger he wore was replaced by worry and sadness. 

‘What were you thinking?!’ he whispered harshly.

I pursed my lips, my tears spilling down my cheeks. 

‘Does your life mean nothing to you? Have you thought of the consequences your death would bring to your friends and people who love you?!’

‘Nobody loves me. I have nobody who is left to love me. They are all dead!’ I spat at him, the bitterness in my words building an unworldly rage within me.

‘That’s not true! I love you!’ he shouted.

‘No you don’t! You’re not real!’ I screamed.

He froze, my words slicing deep. He nodded and helped me up. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said and quickly walked away.

My body began to shake and began sobbing. Why was I like this? Why was I destroying everything that was trying to help me? Why was I pushing John away, when I needed a friend? I wiped my tears and ran after him. 

‘John!’ I called, but he kept walking.

I leapt at him and wrapped my arms around his slender waist, stopping him in his tracks. I pressed my cheek to his back and hugged his tight. 

‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, don’t go,’ I croaked.

We must have stood like that for about five minutes, until he placed his large, warm hands over mine and removed them. He turned around to face me, my shattered soul and heart pleading to be loved and taken care by someone. I needed to be fixed and he was the only one who could do it. Not Amy, or Rory or any stranger. It was something that only John could do. 

There would be no other person God could have sent to heal me, other than this man. I shouldn’t push him away anymore and I didn’t realize how much I needed him and missed him til he left. 

‘Don’t go,’ I said, barely a whisper. 

‘I’m sorry for being unkind and pushing you away. Please… be my friend?’

John remained silent and I was about to read his lack of response as rejection, until he bent forward and wrapped his arms around me, in a long embrace. I welcomed it, nestling myself into him. He was so warm, and I couldn’t help burying my face in his chest. He rested his head atop mine and stroked my back, as I closed my eyes and delved in the small form of affection and reassurance.

‘Promise me, you’ll never do that again… and you’ll stop pushing me away,’ he murmured.

‘I promise,’ I replied, without hesitation.

‘Good,’ he said, and I could have sworn, I felt him smile. 

Eventually he broke the hug and we both looked at each other a bit awkwardly, before bursting into laughter. 

‘Where did you go, these past two weeks?’

‘I worked a bit and I was looking for an apartment… then I realized it was too expensive.’

‘So where did you sleep the last few days then?’

‘Under a bridge, an alleyway and eventually in the park,’ he confessed.

I looked at him in horror and scanned him over for any signs of a cold. I stared at the scar on his forehead and traced it with my finger. He captured my hand and kissed the back of my palm.

‘I’m sorry I left. I felt like me being here, was too much for you, honestly.’

I shook my head and hugged him.

‘I’m glad you came back. Now, please tell me you had a shower before I hugged you…’

He gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his head.

‘Ew!’ I crooned and shoved him towards the bathroom.

‘Shower! Now!’ I ordered.

‘Yes boss,’ he laughed and did as was told.

I didn’t leave til I heard the shower running and found myself picking out an outfit for him to wear. Amongst his belongings, I found a pair of plaid trousers… the same one I refused to buy. I quickly hid it under the bed. No way in hell, was I going to let him wear that rag around the house. It seemed in the two weeks he went missing, he certainly did some shopping of his own.

I knocked before entering the small bathing area, ensuring he wasn’t done when I stepped in. I lay his clothing down and from the corner of my eye, caught the outline of his naked figure through the frosted shower curtain. I had no idea what had gotten into me, but I couldn’t help but stare. I didn’t even notice the shower had turned off and then out came John completely nude.

We both locked stares and I turned completely red, apologizing immediately and darting out the room. I locked myself in my bedroom and buried my head in my pillow, the image of his unclothed self, fresh in my mind. Although, if I was completely honest, he looked rather good… too good. I pinched myself for having racy thoughts about my childhood friend and shoved the entire incident aside. Starting from this very moment, I was going to make him feel welcomed and not push him away and truth be told, I was thrilled he was back.


End file.
